Real Life Sucks
by Cheezels
Summary: Harry's Hogwarts life was never easy. Why should this Life Skills class be any different?
1. Arrival at Hogwarts

**Hello! **

**This is the first work I've ever posted on Fanfiction, so thank you for reading it. **** My sister, Danicakate, and I have read a few Parenting Class stories. While we appreciate the sentiment, we feel that there were… well, some issues with a lot of them. Like being handed a baby and being told "here you go, and by the way, we're not having any more classes so have fun keeping it alive!" which is essentially what happens. Also, being partnered up doesn't exactly work. I don't know about you, but in every class I've ever been in the girls outnumbered the guys. So what happens to the three girls in the corner who have to be single mums cos there's not enough guys? Exactly.**

Minerva McGonagall braced herself for the tide of students that would flood through the doors at any moment.

She hoped it had been a good idea to invite the older students back, even though really she'd had no choice in the matter. The Ministry had decided that since more than a few subjects had been taught by unqualified Death Eaters and the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.S hadn't been held, they wouldn't be counted in a student's results.

So, many students would be returning to complete those classes. Those students who had completed most subjects satisfactorily would only have to retake Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies. Those who hadn't done well or, like Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter, hadn't done their seventh year at all, would be completing the entire curriculum with the current Seventh Years.

And then there was the problem of the inter-House prejudice. For those first year students Sorted into Slytherin, there would be a lot of bad blood.

Minerva sighed. There were so many hurdles lining up in front of her. Best to take them one at a time. The doors opened.

- Real Life Sucks -

"… is off limits. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, would like to remind students that there is a blanket ban on Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, as well as an assortment of other items. The list will be hanging in each common room for those who wish to peruse it. For the list of exceptions, see Mr Filch in his office. Follow the screams," she added with a smile. She noticed a few of the first years gulping. "Quidditch will be running again this year. Madam Hooch will be running informal Quidditch sessions every Saturday morning from nine until lunch, so the Quidditch captains will have to arrange their training around that. Schedules will be handed out tomorrow at breakfast.

"I would like to introduce our new History of Magic teacher, Professor Boxwell, and our new Transfiguration teacher, and Head of Gryffindor House, Mr Weasley, who has until recently been working as a curse-breaker at Gringotts Bank. However, in light of recent… events, he has decided to remain a little closer to his family. He brings with him his wife, Fleur, who will be working as my assistant. Some of you may remember her from the Tri-Wizard Tournament a few years ago. I expect you to treat them with the respect accorded their position.

"Finally, this year the school has decided to run a new program for Seventh Years. Participation is mandatory. This project is liable to affect the entire school, so after breakfast, all students are required to report back to their common rooms so their Heads of Houses can brief them. Seventh years will remain in the Great Hall. I recommend punctuality. I would hate to have to transfigure any of you into pocket watches." She could swear she saw Weasley suppress a snicker.

- Real Life Sucks -

Luna Lovegood sat quietly at the Ravenclaw table. To anyone watching, she was staring dreamily into the distance, paying no attention to anyone at the table and only coming back to herself long enough to put another forkful of food into her mouth. Those sitting around her were used to her spacing out. They would never guess how carefully she listened to their conversations.

"I bet it's Animagus transformations," Terry Boot raved to Robert Hilliard.

"Those are really hard. Besides, how would that affect the rest of the school? And why wouldn't she just tell us?" Robert pointed out.

Terry paused for a moment. "UFOs," he declared.

"What?" Robert asked, completely perplexed.

"Unidentified Flying Objects. Aliens."

"What about them? You don't seriously think that's what our project is. McGonagall is more likely to make us study advanced charms for protection."

Luna stopped focusing on their conversation. Neither of them had any real information. Behind her, she could hear two Gryffindors talking.

"Maybe it's a careers talk. You know, what we should be thinking of doing. And we'll have to do applications and things," one said.

"It could be about the misuse of magic on younger students," another suggested.

"Nah, if they were going to do that, they would have done it while the Weasley twins were here."

"I hope they're not going to talk about the birds and the bees and appropriate relationships," another chimed in. "I had to deal with that from my parents, and I don't need it from them too."

"They could be bringing back the duelling club! That would be great!" A Ravenclaw sitting next to Luna exclaimed. "What do you think, Luna?"

"Hmm?" Luna pretended to come out of a trance. "I think it might have something to do with the real world. Or trauma counselling. How to help the younger years get through it, stuff like that."

The girl paused to think about it. "Maybe. Or it could be like tutoring! You know, helping them!"

"Just shut up about it, alright?" One of the Slytherins snapped. "We find out tomorrow, so stop all your nattering!"

- Real Life Sucks -

Professor McGonagall smiled from the teacher's table. The conversation ebbed and flowed, but it revolved mainly around the seventh year project. And they had no idea what they were in for.

**Oh, I just love Professor McGonagall. Has anyone else read her backstory on Pottermore? I loved her before, but my respect for her grew about a hundredfold.**

**And I couldn't resist doing Luna. She's so brilliant, but nobody ever notices! Which is why we love Luna.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think – the good, the bad and the ugly. I'd appreciate the reasoning behind your feelings. I don't mind if you didn't like it, but I'd like to know why.**

**If you enjoyed this, you may enjoy Danicakate's story 'A Road Less Travelled'. Yes, shameless advertising. She'd do the same for me… or else. **


	2. The New Class

**Hello again,**

**I realise this is a really short chapter and I'm sorry. The next one's longer, we promised. It's ready and waiting. We're having far too much fun with this…**

**Thank you to everyone who has followed **_**Real Life Sucks**_**, you're amazing and we love you. I opened my email today and there was a whole list of Fanfiction emails, and it really touched me. And to the one reviewer: thank you. Neville is coming, we promise. He isn't as prominent at the start, but he'll be taking a lot of stage time later on. We love Neville.**

**Now, on with the story!**

Chapter 2.

The impatient seventh year students all swarmed to their teachers when the schedules were handed out, each eager to know if the project would be there.

"Life Skills?" Ron asked in confusion. "What in Merlin's name is _Life Skills_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We know just as much as you do, Ron."

"Hey guys," Neville said, coming up behind them.

"Hey Neville. Any idea what this Life Skills class is?" Ron asked gloomily.

"Well, apparently McGonagall's teaching it," he answered.

"Really?" Hermione looked interested. "But she's Headmistress. How will she have time for it?"

"That's probably why she brought in Fleur," Neville shrugged. "Anyway, I'm starving. Breakfast's almost over, by the way."

"Food?" Ron's head popped up from where he was examining his schedule. "'Scuse me, 'scuse me, very important person coming through! Very important mission. Out of my way!" He sat down. "Ah, bacon!"

"Good to know Ron's focussing on the important things," Harry remarked with a wry smile.

"What sort of life skills do they think we need anyway?" Ron asked through a mouthful of pastry. "We've got all the important ones: running, fleeing, surreptitious hurrying."

"Stuffing our faces," Ginny chimed in, placing a kiss on Harry's cheek. Ron made a face at her. A glob of half-chewed pastry fell onto his robes.

"Attention all!" McGonagall's voice rang out through the Hall. "You have five minutes to be in your common room! If you haven't eaten yet, I suggest you do so quickly, Mr Weasley! Seventh year students will be remaining in the Great Hall. If you know of anyone who is not here, I recommend you fetch them."

Hermione quickly poured herself a bowl of muesli and began shovelling it down.

"How can you eat that cardboard?" Ron asked with a disgusted look.

"Has more fibre than bacon," Hermione replied absentmindedly, making notes on her schedule. "Let me see that," she said, pulling Harry's schedule out of his hand.

Ron rolled his eyes at the top of her head and re-loaded his fork. Just as it reached his mouth, the food disappeared from the table. He frowned. "I wasn't finished that."

"You're never finished, Ron," Ginny laughed at him.

"If I could have your attention please?" McGonagall called, her voice magically amplified to fill the room. "Thank you. If there are any students here who are below seventh year, please leave now." A couple of stragglers left the room quietly, running to make it to their common rooms. "I'm sure you're all curious as to what your new class entails. The school feels they are not doing everything they can to equip their graduates with the necessary expertise for after school, especially for those who wish to take up residence closer to the Muggle world. In short, this class is going to teach you to survive _life._"

There came a chorus of groans.

"I don't need this," Ron muttered. "I've already got my career planned. I'm never going to live in the Muggle world. Besides, we've already survived real life. We survived a year in the war."

Hermione could hear others muttering too.

"I was on the run for a year," Dean Thomas was muttering. "The real world's gonna be a piece of cake."

"I don't need some teacher holding my hand and telling me what to do," a Ravenclaw muttered loudly. "My parents have House Elves. We've got lots of money. I don't need this class."

"With what we've had to survive, this class should be easy as," Ginny grinned, leaning back in her seat. "I can't think of anything McGonagall can teach us that we can't learn ourselves at home. It's probably all cooking and cleaning. Mum already did all that stuff with us. Ron completely failed though. Maybe McGonagall set up this class for him?"

"Everyone else's taken the leap and learned it as they went along," Seamus Finnigan grumbled. "None of the other years had to do this stupid course, she said so. Does she think we're dumb or something?"

"How is this meant to affect the other years?" Harry wondered out loud.

McGonagall smiled to herself as she waited for silence. Just about the only people who hadn't opened their mouths were Miss Granger, Mr Longbottom and Miss Lovegood. This would make lesson number two so much more interesting. "I think I need to explain exactly what will happen in this class.

"Many students here have been attending Hogwarts since they were eleven. When you are at home, you live with your parents. Many of you have House Elves. At Hogwarts, you have very little responsibility other than your pets, if you own one. In many cases, such as owls, this responsibility extends as far as placing them in the Owlery and letting the House Elves here look after them. I do accept that many of you have great life experiences. I applaud you for them.

"However… Mr Thomas, when you were on the run last year, did you ever pay rent? Mr Weasley, just how often did you prepare a meal in your tent?" Ron blushed, and glanced at Hermione. "For those of you with House Elves, I do hope you will not spend the rest of your lives living with your parents. For those of you who leave home, what will you do then? House Elves are expensive, and not easily purchased on a single Ministry salary. Most of you will indeed be working for the Ministry for at least part of your life.

"Have any of you ever had to budget for an entire household? How many people here actually know the meaning of the word 'tax'? These are the skills we will be teaching in Life Skills classes. Once you leave these hallowed halls, we do not want you to step out with only your NEWTs. We want you to leave as prepared as we can make you. And from now on, that includes skills for real life.

"Your first class is tomorrow. If you fail to attend voluntarily, steps will be taken to ensure that you do not lose your way to class again. And you will have to make up for lost classes in _your own time_.

"You are dismissed."

She turned and swept out the doors, leaving a hall of dumbfounded seventh years behind her. Fleur Weasley was waiting just outside the doors.

"You did not tell zem ze 'ole project?" She asked curiously.

"Best not to give them too much of a shock at once, dear," McGonagall said, patting Fleur's shoulder kindly. "I think Madame Pomfrey will be handing out a few Pepper-Up Potions this morning."

**We know, we know, we're leaving you hanging… again. But much shall be revealed soon! You'll have to wait a couple of days – we can't crank out two good-quality stories at the same time in no time. But it is coming!**

**Check out the first chapter of A Road Less Travelled by Danicakate, we'll be updating it before we update this!**

**Let us know what you think.**


	3. The List

**We've been doing some very hard thinking and very hard writing, and since it's been going so well, we thought we'd reward ourselves and our readers with another chapter :)**

**This one was great fun to write, and we hope you enjoy it as much as we do.**

**As always, let us know what you think, and if you like this, you'll probably enjoy A Road Less Travelled by Danicakate, which we're also writing together.**

**T+D**

Chapter 3.

Minerva McGonagall waited patiently in the Great Hall for the last stragglers to arrive. The seventh years looked singularly unimpressed. She could see that her speech from the morning before had mostly worn off. She surveyed the group – relatively small, only thirty students – before addressing them.

"Good morning class. I can see that many of you are still unappreciative of the value of this class. Most of you think you don't need to be here. Quite a few of you think this is beneath you. So we've shaken up the lesson for today. Once I've finished explaining, we will move upstairs to the third floor. Each of you will choose a door, and enter that room alone. On the back of the door is a list of tasks you will need to accomplish. You can use magic if you wish, however you cannot leave the room. For _any_ reason. We will be keeping an eye on you.

"If you would follow me please." She led them up the staircase to the third floor. There were a few minutes of ordered chaos as each student chose a door. McGonagall walked behind them, robes rustling in the sudden silence. "You have three hours," she announced loudly. "Good luck."

The doors silently swung open together, and with varying degrees of smugness and boldness, the students stepped through the doorways. McGonagall smiled to herself. She had two hours until the next lot showed up. It was going to be a good day.

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione Granger stared at the room in front of her. It was about half the size of a normal classroom, but it didn't have any desks or blackboards. What it did have was an ironing board, a kitchen sink, a crib, a washing machine, a pantry and a stove. She turned, and there, pinned to the back of the door, was a list of jobs. She pulled it off and started reading.

_The ironing needs to be done._

Draco Malfoy stared at the list. They _had_ to be kidding. What did they think he was, slave labour? Well, magic was allowed, right? He clicked his fingers.

Nothing happened.

He clicked again, with the same result. He frantically clicked several more times until he gave up. "Dobby." Nothing. "Dobby, get here now." Nothing.

Apparently, House Elves weren't allowed. Now what was he meant to do? He approached what appeared to be the ironing board. He prodded it cautiously with his wand, and leapt back as it caught fire. This work stuff was harder than they let on.

_Your child needs to be fed and put to sleep._

Ron Weasley jammed his fingers in his ears. There was a _baby_ in the crib. And it was making a noise louder than his mother's Howlers. _Just shut up!_ He thought desperately.

"_Silencio_!" He ordered, waving his wand at the crib. He sighed in relief as the noise stopped. Then it started up again, twice as loud.

_The washing needs to be put on._

Seamus Finnigan stared at the paper, then at the pile of what was probably washing. He'd seen his mum do this heaps. Sure, she didn't have a Muggle washing machine, but washed was washed, right? How did it go again? It was sort of a wiggle and a swish. He waved his wand hopefully. A fountain of water gushed out the end, surprising him. Finally it stopped, and he was left in a dripping room, with a very wet pile of washing. He shrugged. Good enough for him.

_The dishes need to be scrubbed, dried and stacked neatly on the bench._

Luna hummed to herself as she flicked her wand absent-mindedly at the sink. She'd done this hundreds of times at her own house. The sink filled with soapy water and the plates began washing themselves. Another flick of her wand conjured a shiny baby's rattle for the child in the crib. She smiled and turned back to the list.

_A letter needs to be written to your parents. It must be at least two pages long._

Neville pulled a quill and roll of parchment out of his bag. McGonagall wouldn't mind if he wrote to his grandmother. He bent over the scroll and tried to block out the baby's screaming. The stupid thing wouldn't stop.

_The account books for the house will need to be balanced._

Lavender smiled happily at the book in front of her. As long as she didn't touch it or anything around it, the book would remain balancing on the top of the cup. She didn't know what Professor McGonagall thought would be so hard about this. It was a piece of cake, really.

_A meal needs to be cooked._

Harry wasn't having a terrible time, on the whole. Thanks to Aunt Petunia, he had a very good idea for most of the things on the list, but it just went on and on and on… He flipped the bacon in the frying pan, and tried very hard to ignore the screaming from the next room. He didn't know what Ron had done to the baby, but it sounded painful.

_You need to fill in a sick leave form to account for being absent from work._

Ron stared in horror at the little green slip. It was covered in little boxes, with abbreviations next to them like "Ex. Pro. En" and "dts Inc." He crumpled it up and threw it into the crib, where the baby continued to scream.

_The floor needs to be scrubbed and the rug needs to be beaten._

Draco frowned at the mop. How did it work? He supposed it was logical to hold it _there_ and put _that_ bit on the floor, but aside from that he had no idea. And beating a rug? How did that work? What was it meant to achieve? Frowning, he nevertheless picked up the ironing board and began whacking it against the rug and floor, doing absolutely nothing for either.

_The tap is leaking. It really should be fixed._

Seamus glared at the sink. It hadn't been dripping five seconds ago, but as soon as he'd read that… He hadn't a clue how to fix it, and that noise was driving him mad. He leaned over the crib, grabbed a spare dummy and shoved it up the tap. Problem solved. _Drip. Drip. Drip._ Maybe not…

_Your calendar needs to be updated. Your list of appointments sadly went through the wash. You'll need to sort it out._

Hermione stared at the dripping mush in front of her. The writing had blurred together and the pages were sticking. She prodded it with her wand, then confidently cast a spell. She watched as the pages restored themselves to their original state. She picked up a quill and peered at the first page.

Damn. It was all in French.

_The Smiths have just moved into the house down the road. They're a Muggle family, and it would be nice to give them something to welcome them to their new home._

Neville scribbled hastily on a blank piece of parchment.

_Hello, welcome to the neighbourhood. I hope your house is nice. The last people who lived there left in a hurry, and we think it's haunted. Have a nice day. _

_P.S. Please don't scream loudly in the middle of the night. It inconveniences us all._

He grinned. If Professor McGonagall ever actually checked up on all this, he was in trouble.

_Your child may need their nappy changed. _

Lavender stared in horror at the child. It was crying even louder, and a rather unpleasant smell was coming from the crib. She gagged, and ran for the door. There was no handle on the inside, just another piece of paper that said "_You are not to leave the room for any reason until the time is up_."

"Let me out! Let me out!" she yelled, hammering on the door. "Please?"

_You promised to make a dress for the nice girl next door. You will find a list of specifications in the cupboard._

Harry was hopelessly tangled in a roll of fabric. Every time he breathed he was pricked with more pins, and the list of instructions was lost. Finally, he fought his way out of the material and hacked off a length. Very carefully, he cut a circular hole in the centre. There. She could just stick it over her head. If it was good enough for the Greeks, it was good enough for her.

_You've been putting off painting the walls for two weeks, but you finally have the paint. Your boss will be coming to dinner tomorrow, so it would be best to do it today._

Luna slumped into the chair. She was so tired she could barely move. Every new noise or smell, even barely perceptible ones, set the baby crying again. The child had long since tired of the rattle, and every time Luna placed it back in the crib, the rattle would come flying out and hit another part of her. With aching arms, she pried open the tin of paint. Picking up the paintbrush, she scooped up some paint and flung it at the wall, not caring if it went onto the floor, the ceiling or even herself. The end result was a series of splatters of paint, all around the room. Luna considered the job done, and breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to the list. Still thirty things to do.

—Real Life Sucks—

Professor McGonagall checked the hourglass again, watching the last few grains of sand trickle through the bulb. With a grin, she clicked her fingers and the doors swung open. Several students burst out of the room, fleeing from the child that had not stopped screaming. Others dragged themselves out slowly, utterly exhausted. Many were wet, some smelled awful and some were covered in paint.

"Did anyone complete their list of tasks?" She asked, containing her smile. Students looked sheepishly at each other before shaking their heads. "I didn't think so. Who found it hard?" There was a chorus of assent.

"That was a taste of life outside Hogwarts, especially for those who will find themselves living among Muggles. Not every day will be like that. This exercise was created to give you a better appreciation for the value of these lessons. Many of our previous graduates have struggled to find their feet in the world outside school. You are dismissed. I suggest you run along to your next class. Your teachers will expect attendance. It is, after all, only the second day of term."

There was a groan, and the students dragged themselves past her to their next classes. She waited until they were gone, then checked her timepiece again. There was an hour before the third lot of students arrived. A sweeping wave of her wand set the rooms back to their original states, and the doors swung closed.

McGonagall smiled. She couldn't wait to see what the next lot came up with.


	4. They Say You Can't Choose Your Family

**Now we're starting to get into the swing of things. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to those who favourite and/or followed. And thank you to those silent stalkers out there who read and say nothing. Let me know what you think? It'll only take a minute or two.**

**This chapter's fairly long, and we've got more written, just waiting to give to you all :) Surely it's not proper for us to enjoy torturing our characters this much….**

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Chapter 4.

McGonagall stood from her desk, picked up a file and swept from her office, nodding to Fleur as she went. It was time for the first proper lesson in Life Skills. She paused at the top of the staircase overlooking the entrance to the Great Hall. A number of students were waiting for her. She noted the looks of trepidation on their faces. They were more wary of the class now. Good. They would take it more seriously.

She cleared her throat. "Follow me please." They hurried to keep up as she led them through the castle to a large classroom on the fourth floor. "This will be our classroom for the remainder of the year. When this class is scheduled, you will come here, unless otherwise indicated. You will need your books and quills."

A hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Professor, we've been getting some funny looks from other students. Ones in the years below us, I mean. Why?"

"That is because, at the current moment, the younger years know more about your upcoming project than you do." There was a grumble from the class. "However, today you will be briefed on your assignment, so much as I can brief you before it begins. Your assignment will build on what we do in this class. As we learn more, the circumstances of your assignment will change to incorporate your new knowledge." They looked just as confused as ever. She hid a smile.

"Today, we will be starting with the basic building blocks of life. I can see you all found your last lesson difficult, so you shouldn't mind starting at the beginning. Our first lesson will be on matters relating to money." She flicked her wand, and papers flew out of the file to land on the student's desks.

"Each of you will, when you leave school and home, have to find a job and budget your income to match your expenses. Today, we'll also be looking at taxes…"

—Real Life Sucks—

"Your assignment will begin today," Professor McGonagall announced to the seventh years in front of her. "After dinner, the whole seventh year will have to stay back to receive their information. For now, I will bring around a bag. Reach into the bag and retrieve a single piece of paper. You will write your name on this piece of paper, and I will collect them. This choice will dictate your life for the next six months." There were murmurs of disbelief. "This project will be full-time, and though it will not affect your other classes, it will need to be continued throughout them. Now, Mr Thomas, if you would be so kind…" She held the bag out to Dean, who reached in and pulled out a single slip of paper. He unfolded it.

"Subject 53?" he asked, bewildered.

"Write your name, Mr Thomas. This number directly corresponds to a dossier of information about your project. It is unique. If you write a name other than your own on the piece of paper, you will be stuck with that name. I would not recommend it." She finished handing the bag around. "Once you have written your name on your piece of paper, please come forward and place it in the appropriate box." She gestured to four boxes on her desk. Each had a label: 1-50, 51-100, 101-150 and 151-200. "This is so we can more easily organise your dossiers. Quickly, now, no time to lose."

The bag stowed away for later classes, she watched as the class found quills and scrawled on their pieces of paper. She wouldn't be surprised if there were a few new names this year. Some people never learned.

—Real Life Sucks—

Harry headed to the front of the room, slip of paper in hand. He'd written his own name. He had a feeling Professor McGonagall wasn't kidding, and hadn't wanted to risk anything. He stood in front of the last box and took a deep breath. "Come on lucky number 173," he muttered, placing his paper in the box and taking a step back.

"Ooh, sorry." He turned around. He'd stepped on Hannah Abbott's foot.

"Not a problem, Harry." She held up her scrap of paper, 'Hannah Abbott' clearly written in neat letters. "I'm hoping I didn't draw a bad one. What'd you get?"

"173. You?"

"174. I wonder if that means we'll be working together."

"She did say that the project would take most of the year. Having a partner would make it easier. Guess we'll find out tonight."

"See ya, Harry."

"Bye." Harry made his way back to his desk, where he could see the others deep in discussion. Hermione was looking thoughtful.

"It better not be a research project, that's all I'm saying," Ron said crossly.

"Yeah Ron, you can't fake one of them, and Merlin forbid you actually do some work," Ginny sniped.

She stood up. "Anyone want me to take their paper for them?" Ron handed over his. "Ron, do you have one of Fred and George's Self-Correcting Quills?"

"Yeah, I was going to slip it to Hermione. Why?"

"No reason." Ginny grinned and headed up to McGonagall's desk.

"What do you think the project is, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione blinked up at him. He'd obviously interrupted a train of thought.

"I have a sneaking suspicion."

"Care to share?"

"I'd rather wait until after dinner, and hope I'm wrong. That way I don't look like an idiot, and no one else panics."

"That bad, hey?"

"You have no idea. Think about yesterday, and then think about what we've just learned."

Harry was confused. "I don't get it."

Hermione grimaced. "Then pray to Merlin that I'm wrong."

At the look on her face, Harry's gut twisted. They wouldn't give NEWT students anything _too_ bad. Would they?

—Real Life Sucks—

As the last of the puddings faded from sight, Professor McGonagall stood up from the staff table. "If the seventh years could remain in the Great Hall, I would ask all other students to leave."

With much muttering and a great kerfuffle, the Great Hall emptied. She swept her wand across the room, and the four House tables slid to the sides of the room. Another swish, and rows of chairs appeared in front of the staff table. The students looked confused. She flapped her hands at them. "Sit down." They sat.

"Everyone here is taking part in the Life Skills project. As some of you may have guessed, you will be spending the next six months or so taking part in a simulated 'real life' experience. You will be living in a village we have created here in the school. We will be starting with basic living – taking care of your house while working. As we progress through new material in the Life Skills class, your new knowledge will be incorporated into your new lives, meaning that your circumstances may change. This week, we will be continuing to learn about money management, and as such, your houses will be given budgets.

"You all were assigned subject numbers today. Each number has a corresponding dossier of information. It tells you your life story: your name, if you chose a new one for the assignment," she paused and gave a significant look to the group. Several people flinched. She continued, "Your age, your marital status, your job, and your income and savings, amongst other things. The dossiers will be handed out shortly. Firstly, some rules.

"You are not allowed to change anything in your dossier. You cannot swap lives with another student. For all intents and purposes, these are your lives until the assignment is complete.

"You are all expected to attend your classes. In addition, you must each complete the work assigned for your 'job'. Details are included in your dossiers. If you are sick, you must advise your employer. You will be paid for your work. However, this is not actual money, and is placed in an account under your name. Any purchases – and you will have to make them – must be made from this account. There are some items that cannot be removed from your budget.

"Your houses are, in fact, houses. As there are different forms of accommodation in the real world, not everyone will be living in a house. Some of you will have apartments, cottages, etc. If something happens in real life, you can expect that it will crop up somewhere in this assignment. You will be given the keys to your accommodation. I suggest you get a spare set made. It is up to you who you wish to give a copy to, though I should warn you that the staff have access to all dwellings.

"I mentioned changing circumstances. Sometimes they will be something that changes for everyone, and will be announced in a forum like this. For individual changes, you will be informed in writing. Internal messages relating to this assignment are colour-coded as follows: yellow parchment for official, staff created messages, blue parchment from other students relating to the assignment, and green for mail from agencies within the assignment, for instance, the tax office or the grocer. Your dossiers are self-updating and will always reflect your current circumstances.

"All houses are connected by an internal floo network. My office is also connected, but for Floo-calls only. Like any village, yours stays connected with what's happening via the local paper, the _Town Talk_. It's one of the items that you cannot remove from your budget for the first month. I suggest you read it, as there are occasions when the news will affect your daily lives in your village.

Now, I'll give you some time to think of questions while we hand out your dossiers. I suggest you read them first, as they'll probably contain the answers you want. After that, we'll have some time for questions. Mrs Weasley, if you could help me hand these out?"

As Ron looked frantically for his mother, Fleur stepped forward and picked up a pile of folders.

Neville, sitting next to Hermione, turned to look at her. She was incredibly pale. "You alright?"

"I was right," she said. "Sometimes I hate being right."

—Real Life Sucks—

Hannah Abbott smiled queasily as she accepted her dossier from Mrs Weasley. She stared at it in dread until the girl next to her nudged her.

"You alright Hannah? You look like someone's holding your puppy for ransom," she joked.

Hannah took a deep breath. "Yeah." She opened it and stared at the page. "I work for the _Town Talk_. Junior Editor. Married for fifteen years to… sweet Merlin."

—Real Life Sucks—

Draco Malfoy flicked his dossier open and scanned the page.

_Married. That's not so bad. _

_Divorced. Damn._

—Real Life Sucks—

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand in excitement. "I really hope they put us together," she whispered. "This is going to be so much fun! We'll just breeze through this. As the only girl, Mum taught me a lot of stuff. You know, housekeeping and stuff. I wonder what our house will be like? Oooh, I can't wait!" she squealed as she took the dossier off Fleur. She grinned at the name printed on the front in big black letters. **Ginevra Weasley**. She threw it open and skipped straight down to the marital status. She froze.

"Ginny?" Harry asked nervously.

"Single and six months pregnant," she whispered. "Mum's gonna kill me."

—Real Life Sucks—

Luna ran her fingers over the dossier. She was dying to know what was inside, but it wouldn't do to seem too eager. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"Luna, you going to open that?" Neville asked, prodding her arm gently.

"Hmm? Oh, I suppose so." She flicked it open. The only thing that betrayed her eagerness was the speed with which her eyes skimmed over the paper inside. "Hmm."

"Well?" Neville asked after a pause. "What have you got?"

"Hmm? Happily married for five years."

There was another pause. "Who to?" He finally asked.

"Hmm?" She said again. It was one of her favourite noises; it really got on people's nerves. "Oh, Blaise Zabini."

Neville spluttered. "And you're okay with this?"

"Well, he's nice enough, I suppose. And it does say I've been happily married with a daughter. I wonder what his says."

From across the room there was a strangled gurgle. Neville turned to see Draco Malfoy pounding Blaise Zabini on the back. "Right. Should be interesting."

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione stared at the folder. She felt that if she took her eyes off it, it might attack.

_Ms Hermione Granger. I'm not a 'Ms'. I've never been a 'Ms'. I am a 'Miss'. I am neither divorced nor widowed. Neither am I a feminist. I am a 'Miss,' thank you very much. _

She opened the folder, fuming.

"Ah. Right." _Damn._

—Real Life Sucks—

Harry opened his folder nervously. What if he was a single dad? Or a widower? Or had eight kids? He took a deep breath to calm himself. _If it's that bad, I'll lock myself in the dungeons. Then I'll only have to deal with Slughorn, and he really likes me. I'll be fine. I'm gonna starve. I'm gonna _die_. I hate you, number 173. _

"For the love of Merlin, Harry, just open the bloody thing!" Ron snapped. "It's not going to explode in your face."

_Harry James Potter is happily married to…_ "Oh my goodness."

"What?"

"I've been married to Hannah Abbott for the past 15 years and we've got four kids. Why did no-one tell me?"

—Real Life Sucks—

Neville opened his folder quickly. _Like a Band-Aid, Nev. Just do it quick._ He scanned it, and felt the blood drain from his face. "My gran's gonna kill me."

"Hmm?" Luna said. "Oh, you've got yours. How did you do?"

"I've been living with Padma Patil and she's four months pregnant. I'm dead."

"Oh. That's nice."

"That's _not_ nice! My gran's gonna turn up in the middle of breakfast tomorrow and kill me stone dead in the middle of the Great Hall!" Neville moaned. "Hide me Luna!"

"Well, I suppose you could ask the Nargles. And if that doesn't work, I'll make sure you have a nice funeral. What colour would you like?"

—Real Life Sucks—

Ron flipped open his dossier, the very picture of ease. His heart was pounding.

_Marital status: Single, in a steady relationship with-_ "What?! Merlin's saggy Y-fronts! Who the bloody hell came up with this?"

"Mr Weasley!" McGonagall snapped. "You will keep a civil tongue in your head, or Mr Filch and I will ensure it does not remain in your head very much longer!"

"But Professor! There's got to be some kind of mistake!" Ron protested.

"You merely need to spend three hours a week in her company outside of class. You can be studying, which, may I add, will only improve your scores. I'm not asking you to kiss the girl!"

He glanced over to see Pansy sobbing onto her friend's shoulder. At least he wasn't alone in his misery.

—Real Life Sucks—

Seamus strolled over to Dean and clapped him on the back. "Have you heard, brother dearest? I'm staying with you and your wife- who's she again?"

"Clara Ferris," Dean answered, checking his dossier.

Seamus stared blankly at him. "Who?"

"She's a really sweet Hufflepuff," Dean frowned at him. "Really, mate, if you can't remember my wife's name I'm gonna have to kick you out!"

—Real Life Sucks—

McGonagall gazed fondly at the pandemonium. She loved this class.

She clapped her hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could rearrange yourselves please? Those with partners, seated with them to my left. Those divorced, with their ex-spouses in front of me. Those with no partner to my right." She waited while they grudgingly moved. "If you could sit _with_ your spouse or ex-partner please?"

—Real Life Sucks—

Draco thumped down next to Hermione. "Honestly, Granger, we had a kid together and you _still_ left me!"

"Since we had a kid together, don't you think we should be on first-name terms?" Hermione sniped back. "At least for Mahogany's sake."

"Who?"

"Our daughter. The three-year-old angel who is apparently 'the light of our lives,' remember?"

"Merlin, what a mouthful. We're calling it Annie. Don't argue with me, Granger. I don't have the breath to call it 'Mahogany' all the time."

"That's our daughter you're talking about, Malfoy. She's not an _it_."

"You know, Granger, I'm starting to see why we split."

—Real Life Sucks—

Neville sat down next to Padma.

"Hello Neville," she said, sounding a bit nervous.

"Um… Padma… assoonaswegetthechancetochangeourcircumstancesI'mp roposingokay?"

"Gesundheit?"

"Um," Neville took a deep breath. Saying it the first time had been hard enough. "As soon as we get the chance to change our circumstances I'm proposing, okay? My gran'll kill me for getting a girl pregnant without marrying her."

Padma sighed in relief. "Oh good. I was wondering how I was gonna explain this to my dad."

—Real Life Sucks—

Luna skipped over to Blaise and sat down next to him. She pretended to be oblivious to the fact that he whimpered quietly and sank a little further down in his chair.

—Real Life Sucks—

Ginny slunk over to the single people's section and threw herself into a chair. She watched sulkily as Harry made his way over to the married section. Who'd stolen him from her? It wasn't fair. She'd waited this long for him, and they couldn't be together for at least another six months, not without failing this assignment. He sat down next to Hannah Abbot. Ginny really wished she wasn't so nice. It made it so hard to hate her.

—Real Life Sucks—

Pansy was crying again as she sat down next to Ron. He couldn't understand why. _Girls_. He supposed he had to be nice-ish. They were supposed to be dating, after all. "What's the matter?" he asked kindly.

""I have to pretend to date a man who can't even spell his own name right!" she wailed.

"Yeah, well-" _Wait. What?_ He snatched up his dossier and scanned the front page. "Damn!"

—Real Life Sucks—

Harry made his way over to Hannah, who was talking with her friends. He cleared his throat quietly. She grinned sheepishly.

"Hey Harry. I know this is a bit of a shock, and it probably isn't the best time to be mentioning it, but have you noticed that we'll be Mr and Mrs H. Potter?"

He started laughing. _Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all_. Then he glanced over at Ginny. She was glaring at them. _Then again…_

—Real Life Sucks—

Susan Bones glanced at Robert Hilliard. The poor boy was hysterical, and Madame Pomfrey was gently leading him from the room. She overheard one of his friends confiding in another.

"Poor chap," he said in faux sympathy. "He's just lost his wife and now he has to raise the triplets on his own." Susan grimaced as they cracked up. And she thought she had it bad…

**Let us know what you think! Next chapter, we follow our friends as they find their houses, with a few surprises along the way. :)**


	5. By The Way, Here's Your Life

**To everyone who gave us reviews, thank you so much, you give us the warm fuzzies.**

**To our guest reviewer: did we forget to mention that Draco and Hermione are divorced? We're sure it's in there somewhere…. At the current time, we don't intend to make this a Dramione fanfiction, though they will become friends (this is why he wasn't a main character). You'll probably never read this, having written our story off, but our apology is somewhat sincere nonetheless.**

**We have big plans for this story – we're having far too much fun with it. You should see what's coming up!**

Chapter 5.

"If I could have your attention?" McGonagall called, refocusing the room. She waited as the students re-claimed their seats. "As you can see, many of you have lives you would not have expected. These were drawn up prior to the selection of numbers. As it is, for all intents and purposes these are your lives. Inside your dossiers there is a map. Your place of residence will be marked clearly upon the map. You should also have a key. This is for your residence, and nobody apart from teachers will be able to enter if you keep your houses locked. The teachers involved in this project will have access to _all_ houses. Further personal effects will be located inside your residence.

"If you would follow me? I suggest you pay attention, as you will be staying at this location for the next six months." McGonagall led them out of the Hall and up to the seventh floor. She stopped in front of a wide door and waited for them to reassemble before continuing her speech. "Some of you may recall this room from previous years. It is widely known as the Room of Requirement. For the duration of this project, however, it will remain fixed in this state. Once you enter, you are expected to make your way sensibly to your place of residence. Those students in younger years will not be able to enter without specific permission from one or more of you." McGonagall stepped aside. "Your project begins now. Good luck."

—Real Life Sucks—

Neville stepped to the side of the corridor and sorted through his dossier until he found his house. Well, the house he would be sharing with Padma. It didn't look too far away from the dot marked 'Entrance,' so he fixed its location in his mind and re-joined the crush of students. He couldn't see Padma. He hoped she'd find it all right.

—Real Life Sucks—

Ginny glared at the map. Every way she held it seemed to be the wrong way. Finally, she held her wand flat on the palm of her hand and whispered "Point me." It spun, then pointed to her right. She looked around for a street sign. _Only two blocks away._ She hurried off.

—Real Life Sucks—

Luna wandered happily through the streets. She knew exactly where her house was, but she wanted to have a look through the town before she saw it. There were a few apartment buildings, but mostly there were houses, in varying sizes. She saw Harry waving at her from the porch of his large house, and waved back. She almost ran into Neville as he peered at his map. The sky was progressively getting darker.

"Hello Neville," she smiled airily. It was a great smile. It gave off the impression that she wasn't paying much attention.

"Hey Luna," he said back distractedly. "Have you seen-"

"Your house is over there," she replied, pointing. He stared at her in astonishment. "Padma's waving at you."

He turned. "Thanks Luna!" He started to hurry off, then turned back. "You know where your house is, right? Do you need any help finding it?"

"No, I'll be all right," she replied, smiling again. "I love dusk, don't you?"

Neville smiled in response, and ran off to his house.

Luna marked Neville's house on her map, then tucked it into her pocket and set off again.

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione walked briskly along the path towards where her house was meant to be. Her fingers were tightly crossed. _Please don't make me live with Malfoy. We're split, right? So we must have different houses. I'll go mad if I have to live with him. Somebody's going to be dead by the time the week's over. I wonder what I should do with the body…_ She glanced at the map again, and ran into someone.

"Sorry Hermione," Ginny grimaced, picking up her wand.

"Hey," Hermione smiled. "Found your house yet?"

"Nope. Should be just along here though. Where's yours?"

"Just along here. Maybe we'll be neighbours?" She checked the numbers on the houses they were passing.

"Maybe," Ginny grinned. "Well, this one's mine."

"No, this is my number." Hermione frowned. She held up the key. "It's got the number on it."

Ginny fumbled with her papers and produced two keys. "They're different. But this one's got the number on it…"

"Well, let's go inside for now. We'll sort it out when we get in there."

—Real Life Sucks—

Draco Malfoy paused at a park bench, and laid his dossier out flat. Lighting up his wand, he sorted through the papers until he found one marked 'Residence.' He smirked. He was probably the only person who'd thought to actually look for something about his house.

_After his divorce, Mr Draco Malfoy moved in with his sister while he searched for the perfect cottage for himself and his daughter, Mahogany. _

He snorted. 'Perfect cottage'? 'Sister'?

_Mr Malfoy was staying in the eldest child's room while the eldest shared a room with a sibling. However, as the Hogwarts year has recently started up again, both siblings are in residence at the school. Mr Malfoy finds the house a lot less crowded now. His daughter, on the other hand, misses her cousins. _

"Right," he muttered. "Let's go find my imaginary sister."

—Real Life Sucks—

Dean hadn't managed to get a seat next to his wife while McGonagall was talking. In fact, he hadn't managed to catch up to her until they were standing in the kitchen of their new house. He knocked on the door, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hello," He grinned at her. "You must be Clara!"

"Oh! Um…" She blushed. "I'm really sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you before McGonagall's speech… I'm sorry David, I feel like such an idiot! I really thought your name was Dean!"

He took a deep breath, and was about to reply when-

_Knock knock knock._

"Ah. There's something I should probably tell you." He started.

"Sister-in-law!" Seamus swept into the room and pulled Clara into a crushing embrace.

She stood frozen for a second until he let go and rushed around the other side of the kitchen table.

"Dean!" He was about to give Dean the same treatment when-

"I'm sorry, that's not Dean," Clara interrupted timidly. Seamus froze. "That's David. Who exactly are you?"

Seamus spun to Dean, a horrified look on his face. "You… you mean you've been _lying_ to me? All these years, you let me believe your name was Dean! How could you, David? What kind of a brother _are_ you?" There was a second of silence. He turned to Clara. "Hello, you must be… what was your name again?" he asked, shaking her hand vigorously. "I'm Seamus, by the way. Seamus Finnigan."

"You... you're brothers?" she gulped. Then she turned to Dean. "But he's Irish," she asked in complete confusion.

"Ah. Well…" Dean began.

"You see, it all began years ago, with an Irish tap dancer…" Seamus interrupted, sweeping his arm out majestically.

Dean sank onto a kitchen chair, his head in his hands.

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione and Ginny spread their dossiers over the coffee table in their lounge room.

_Career. Income and Expenses. History. Ah, Residence._

Hermione took a deep breath and read. _After her divorce from Mr Draco Malfoy, it was mutually decided that Mr Malfoy was better equipped to find a suitable residence for their daughter, so Ms Hermione Granger received the title to the house as part of the settlement. Her small daughter Mahogany ('Annie'), lives there with her every second week._

Hermione scanned the rest of the page. There was nothing about Ginny in there at all.

"Here it is," Ginny broke the silence. "_Miss Ginevra Weasley is staying with her cousin, Ms Hermione Granger, while her house is being fumigated_." She turned to Hermione. "Ms?"

—Real Life Sucks—

Draco opened the gate at the front of the garden. _Time to meet the relatives._ He made his way up the porch steps and knocked on the door. The light flicked on, the door swung open and Draco found himself face to face with none other than… Harry Potter? His eyes swung back to the dossier. …_Mr Draco Malfoy moved in with his sister…_ He looked back to Harry, who hadn't moved an inch.

"You are one ugly sister, Potter."

Harry looked confused. He turned back into the house. "Um… Hannah!"

—Real Life Sucks—

Ron stepped through the doorway and tripped over his trunk. After seven flights of stairs, that was exactly what he needed. _Thank you, House Elves, for making my day just that much more perfect. _

It was a very bachelor-style place. He wandered through, taking in the dining room, the bedroom and the bathroom. Then he came across a closed door. Immediately on his guard, he lunged inside, ready to attack. What he found was worse than he could have imagined. Walls, covered with books. There was a desk, cluttered with papers and quills. He backed out quickly. A _study_. He was never going in there again.

—Real Life Sucks—

After a quick tour, Neville had decided that it wasn't actually a bad place to live. There were two bedrooms, thank Merlin – he was sure Padma was a lovely girl, but he didn't know her _that_ well. He supposed they would figure out what to do with the kid when it came along; they had five months after all.

"Hey, Neville?" Padma called from the living room.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Did you put this here?" She sounded confused, and he rounded the corner to see her standing in front of the mantelpiece, holding a large yellow envelope.

"Nope. Must be one of those official notices. McGonagall said they were yellow, right?" Neville replied.

"Should we-?" Padma mimed opening it, and when Neville nodded, she began to read aloud its contents. It was basically a summary of everything they had already found out. She neared the end.

"_Tomorrow morning will be your last meal in the Great Hall. Those girls whose status is 'pregnant' please report to Madame Pomfrey after breakfast. Remember that you will be expected to attend all classes for the duration of this project. Wishing you the best, Professor McGonagall."_

—Real Life Sucks—

**We're not too sure how sincere Professor McGonagall is with that last bit…**

**Still, come back for the next chapter! Day One of the Life Skills Project and the Pregnancy Conundrum!**

**Fun, fun, fun!**

**Cheezels and Danicakate**


	6. The Morning After the Night Before

**Hello poppets.**

**Thank you for reading. I know it's been a bit slow, but I've been distracted… by, y'know… stuff.**

**I now have a nice notebook to record things for this story… so far it has quite a few nasty tricks to play on my characters. Join us for plenty of fun!**

Chapter 6 – The Morning After the Night Before

Draco slumped next to Blaise at the Slytherin table. Blaise lifted his head from the table, peered at Draco, and then put it back.

"How'd it go?" Draco asked sympathetically.

"Don't ask," Blaise grunted.

"That bad, eh?"

"Worse. You don't even want to know. How's yours?"

"I'm living with my sister," Draco smirked. "And her husband, Mr H. Potter."

Blaise, who had been drinking his pumpkin juice, choked. "For six months?" he finally managed.

"Nope. Just until I find the perfect cottage for my two-year-old. Apparently she's the light of my life." He rolled his eyes.

"Aw, you've got a kid?" Blaise mocked. "You're going soft. Do you know who the mum is?"

"That the fun bit," Draco ground out. "I get to share her with Hermione Granger."

Blaise choked on his pumpkin juice again.

"Steady on, mate," Draco eyed him uneasily. "They haven't taught us first aid yet."

—Real Life Sucks—

Luna knocked on Neville's front door. After a minute, there came a shuffling sound, and a bleary-eyed Neville peered out at her.

"Good morning, Neville!" Luna said cheerily, pushing past him. "Breakfast started ten minutes ago."

"Hmm?" Neville yawned.

"Breakfast, Neville. You should really get dressed. Your gran's coming, remember?"

Neville thought slowly for a minute, then his eyes widened and he bolted upstairs. "Thanks Luna!" She heard him yell. Two minutes later, he ran downstairs again, pulling on his tie. He was at the front door when he froze, turned and started upstairs again. "I need to wake up Padma." Five seconds later he was downstairs again. "I can't find Padma. Where's Padma?"

"She already left. I saw her with her sister. They're probably at breakfast already."

"Okay." Neville ran for the door.

"Neville? Relax. Breakfast won't finish for half an hour," Luna called, skipping down the porch steps. "Did you get any children?" she asked airily. She could remember last night's conversation perfectly, but she had a reputation to uphold, even to her closest friends.

"Not for five months," Neville grimaced. "You?"

"I get a daughter. She's four years old and her name is Jenny. I wonder when we'll get them?"

"Hopefully not for a while. Did you hear that Harry got _four_? Poor guy," Neville sympathised.

"Do you want a boy or a girl?" Luna asked curiously.

"Well, Longbottoms are traditionally boys, but I'm not sure if I could handle a boy running around wanting to play Quidditch. I'd love to have a little girl. I'd probably spoil her rotten," Neville laughed.

They walked for a few minutes in silence before Neville peered at a street sign, confused. "We've passed this street already."

"Maybe it loops back onto this street?" Luna suggested.

"No, because I remember that house." He paused for a moment. "Luna, do you know how to get to the exit?"

Luna laughed airily. "I only moved here last night. I was following you."

"I was following _you!_"

There was a pause. "We're lost," Neville moaned. "We're gonna starve. We're gonna _die."_

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione smiled at Harry as he sat down, then turned back to her History book.

"Don't you already have the entire history of the whole world memorized?" he joked.

"No," Hermione said, shooting him an irritated look. "Besides, I'm sure Professor Boxwell will be teaching something other than the Goblin Wars. You'd do well to brush up on _your_ history knowledge."

Ginny slid into the seat next to Hermione and put her head in her hands. "I am _not_ looking forward to seeing Madame Pomfrey."

"Why do you have to see Madame Pomfrey?" Harry asked, completely confused.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you read the official notice last night? Everyone I've talked to did."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I was going through our dossiers with Hannah and Malfoy."

Hermione looked up from her book, a shade paler. "_Malfoy?"_

"Yeah. Apparently he's my brother-in-law. He's living with Hannah and me until he can find a house for him and his daughter." Harry frowned. "Why he doesn't already have one…"

"Hermione got it," Ginny piped in with a smirk. "She used to be married to him."

Harry turned to Hermione, question clear on his face, but she spoke first. "Has anyone seen Ron? Breakfast is almost over, and he's _never_ missed a meal." She glared at Harry, daring him to ask. He grinned and turned back to his food. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he was just saving the topic for later, when she wasn't expecting it.

—Real Life Sucks—

"…and then they try to kick the ball into the goal," Dean said patiently. Clara just stared blankly at him. He gave up. "_Anyway_, David Beckham is the greatest footballer in the history of the world. It's like… I don't know… It'd be like you putting down some famous Quidditch player instead of your name. Just for a joke. Understand?"

She thought for a moment as they turned the corner. "So instead of being Dean, you wanted to be Viktor Krum?"

He groaned. "No, I wanted to be David Beckham. You know, because he's rich and famous and married to Posh Spice."

"Who?"

"One of the Spice Girls."

The poor girl just looked even more confused. "The Muggles have girls made of spice?"

Dean could feel his brain melting. It was going to be a long day.

—Real Life Sucks—

Neville spun in a circle. "We've passed that tree three times now! And that house, and that lamp post… How is it possible? We haven't turned around. We've been going straight!" He sunk onto a bench and put his head in his hands.

Luna thought for a moment. "Maybe if we turned around?" she suggested.

Five minutes later, they were back at the bench. It was the same one.

"We're doomed!" Neville wailed.

Luna sat down and patted his shoulder. "Look at it this way: at least now you don't have to face your grandmother."

—Real Life Sucks—

Padma stood outside the hospital wing with a small crowd of other girls, all of whom were chattering nervously.

"What do you think we'll have to do?" The girl next to her whispered. Padma turned to see her dorm-mate, Isobel MacDougal.

"Isobel! You're pregnant too?"

"Not too loud. My mother will hear you. I got a lecture on besmirching our family's pureblood honour when I was ten; I don't need another one now." Isobel smiled weakly. Padma chuckled at the joke.

"How far along are you?" She asked.

Isobel dived into her bag and emerged with the now-familiar yellow dossier folder. She flicked through it. "Uh… a month. Oh good, I don't have to deal with a kid for this project! No childbirth for me!"

Padma felt the world spin. "I hadn't even thought of that," she whispered. She thought she might faint.

"Why?" Isobel asked. "How far along are you?"

"Four months. I have to look after a newborn baby for a whole month. I'm going to die. _It's_ going to die. I'm going to be a murderer." By this time, Padma was hyperventilating. Isobel leaned away slightly.

"Madam Pomfrey?" She called over her shoulder. "I think you might want to come over here please. Quickly."

"Honestly, girls," Madam Pomfrey tutted as she hurried over. "Nothing's happened yet."

—Real Life Sucks—

Harry leaned over to Hermione. "Hermione?" he whispered, trying not to attract Professor Boxwell's attention. "Hermione, Ron's not here yet."

"He's probably talking to Professor McGonagall," she hissed back, scribbling at a furious rate. "You know about how upset he was about his… situation."

"You mean, that he's dating Pansy?"

"Yes. Now shut up."

"Mr Potter," a new voice interrupted. Harry looked up to see the new Professor standing in front of him. "Something you'd like to share with the class?"

Harry gulped. He could already see how different this was going to be to Binns' class.

—Real Life Sucks—

"You'll all need to return once a week for your next dose," Madam Pomfrey continued. "This will add another week's growth to your 'bump' and change your symptoms accordingly. Any questions?"

"Umm… what _are_ the symptoms?" a small, unidentifiable voice asked from the middle of the crowd.

"It depends how far you are along. You may experience an altered sense of taste – liking foods you normally hate, hating foods you normally love, cravings, smell sensitivity, exhaustion, nausea – commonly known as morning sickness, though it can strike at any time, emotional instability – that one's always fun, oh, and carrying a living thing with its accompanying weight on your front. If you notice something unusual for you, I'm happy for you to come up and ask. It won't be charged as a medical bill."

"A medical bill?" Isobel asked.

"Professor McGonagall hasn't mentioned them yet? No? Well, I'm sure it will come up soon enough. Don't fret about it until then. Anyone else?" She smiled kindly.

"Do we have to take vitamins, or be careful what we eat, or anything?" Someone up the back asked.

"Well, you should always be careful what you eat, but if you eat a balanced diet, you should be fine. Since you girls won't actually be eating for two, we won't give you prenatal vitamins or anything similar, but remember that it's probably a good idea if you actually do become pregnant."

There was an awkward silence, full of shuffled feet and embarrassed nudges. Finally, Madam Pomfrey spoke. "Are any of you girls going to be brave and ask about the childbirth, or are you all happy to wait until it happens to you?"

The room filled with red faces, and almost as one, the seventh years looked at their feet.

"Anyone? No? I'm not answering an unasked question."

Ginny glanced up. She could swear Madam Pomfrey was… smirking. It was almost like she was enjoying this.

Finally, Padma put on her big-girl panties, and took a deep breath. "Madam Pomfrey, what happens when we're… due?"

This earned her a smile. "Padma Patil, braver than the Gryffindors. Your mother would be proud. How far along are you?"

"Four months, ma'am."

"You don't need to worry for a while, but still, it's good to know. Muggles have invented a wonderful contraption that causes the muscles to contract like in labour. They won't work here, too much magic in the air, but we've come up with something similar. It'll hurt, and you'll be at it for a while, but it won't be quite as bad as actually giving birth to a child. Once you've finished your 'labour' we'll hand you a lovely screaming newborn who will be yours to care for. And yes, you'll be taught how to look after it."

"That sounds excruciating," Ginny said. "Do we have to?"

"Well, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey answered in a slightly condescending tone. "When you're pregnant, you don't have much choice. Once you're in labour, there's not much medicine or magic can do to change that. But since you're only teenagers, and you're taking part in a simulation, yes, we will stop if it becomes too much."

"Oh good," Ginny said. "And if we don't want to do any of it?"

"I would warn you, Miss Weasley, that this is an assignment, and has bearing on your NEWTs." Madam Pomfrey said in an icily sweet voice. "I suggest you take part to the best of your ability."

—Real Life Sucks—

"…missed breakfast _and_ History of Magic. That's not normal. I'm just a little worried about him."

"And that's why I agreed to help you check on him, Harry. I'm sure it's nothing. We're…"

Her voice trailed off as she spotted Neville and Luna walking away from them over to her right. "I wonder what they're doing."

She was watching them walking, when they suddenly disappeared.

"Wonder what who are doing?" Harry asked.

"Neville and Luna. They were just… And now they're…" Hermione said vaguely, pointing to where her friends had been a moment ago.

Harry reached over and gently redirected her arm to the left. "Over there, Hermione. They're over _there_."

Hermione blinked, and watched the pair walk in front of them, and off to the right again, where they… disappeared.

"Harry, tell me I'm not going mad."

"No, I see it too. Where'd they…?"

"Look, they're back over there."

They watched as Neville and Luna walked along the lane and disappeared, reappearing off to the left. They made three circuits before Hermione interrupted them.

"Do you guys know that you're doing that?" She asked.

"Hermione!" Neville jumped. "You startled me. Doing what?"

"The whole disappearing, reappearing rabbit in a hat trick." Hermione replied.

"There were rabbits? I didn't notice." Luna looked around for a rabbit.

"Not a real rabbit. It's a Muggle magic reference, don't worry. You two were walking, and you'd get to somewhere over _there_," she gestured off to her right, "and disappear, only to reappear over _there_." She gestured to her left. "We watched you do five or six circuits."

Neville turned to Luna. "I _knew_ we were going in circles."

—Real Life Sucks—

"…married for a year, apparently. We've got a really nice house," Isobel told Padma as they walked towards their Transfiguration class. It's got this great little garden, and there's a room with a window seat…" Isobel sighed happily. "I want a house just like it when I actually get married."

Padma grinned. She loved her house too. Chattering happily with Isobel, however, she misjudged the height of the stairs and whacked her toes.

Isobel stared in alarm at the sobbing Padma. "Um… are you alright?" she asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know why I'm crying!" Padma wailed. "But my clothes don't fit, and I feel bloated and I just can't stop!"

"Ah," Isobel nodded knowingly. "Emotional instability. Tell me, is it as much fun as Madam Pomfrey promised?"

Padma glared through her tears. "I'm going to hit you."

—Real Life Sucks—

"Why are you here?" Luna asked. "Don't you have class?"

"We've got this period off," Harry grinned. "We're just looking for Ron. Haven't seen him since last night."

"Do you know where his house is?" Neville asked curiously.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Not me," Hermione said, holding up her hands.

"I don't know either. I was following you."

"Neville?" Hermione asked. He shook his head. "Luna?"

"Hmm?" Luna looked at her inquisitively.

"Do you know where Ron's house is?" Luna shook her head.

"Maybe he was having a meeting with McGonagall?" Neville suggested. "He did seem a bit upset about…"

"That's what we thought too, but Fleur's McGonagall's secretary and she hasn't seen him either," Harry explained.

"So… what are you going to do?" Neville asked.

Luna pulled out her wand and balanced it on her palm. "Point me."

It pointed directly to a tall apartment building a few metres to their left. "I hate stairs," Neville muttered.

"Well," said Hermione, opening the door, "you're in luck. There appears to be an elevator."

—Real Life Sucks—

"Sister-in-law!" Clara resisted the urge to duck behind Ernie Macmillan. Seamus bounded up and wrapped her in a hug again. Then he saw Ernie's raised eyebrows. He cast a disapproving look at Clara. "Talking to strange men, sister-in-law? David will be _so_ heartbroken."

She sighed inwardly. "Seamus, this is Ernie Macmillan. He's been my friend for seven years. Ernie, this is Seamus Finnigan, my brother-in-law. His mother is an Irish tap dancer."

"Brother-_in-law_? Who did you marry?" Ernie asked in confusion.

"Mr David Beckham," Seamus chimed in.

Ernie thought for a moment. "I don't remember a David Beckham at Hogwarts. What's he look like?"

"He also goes by the name Dean Thomas. Don't worry, Ernie, Sister-in-law here made the same mistake," Seamus grinned. He turned to Clara. "Me and Ernie go way back, Sister-in-law. We were in the DA together in fifth year."

Clara gave him a look. "I was in the DA with both of you, Seamus."

"Oops." Seamus waved his hand dismissively. Then he stopped and stared her. "_Really_? Then why did you have to ask what my name was?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Seamus thought for a second. "That must be where you met. Instant connection, love at first sight." He gave an exaggeratedly wistful sigh. "I forgot to ask, do you have any kids yet?"

"No," Clara ground out, doing her best to be polite. "We thought we'd wait until we knew each other a little better."

"Ah," Seamus nodded knowingly. "Whirlwind romance, straight out of Hogwarts. It'd be best to slow it down a bit, Sister-in-law."

Ernie turned to Clara. "He keeps calling you 'sister-in-law.' Does he even know your name?"

Seamus puffed out his chest indignantly. "Of course I know her name! She's my sister-in-law!"

"Yeah?" Ernie smirked. "So what is it?"

"It's… It's…" Seamus leaned over to Clara. "You never told me your name," he whispered. "What _is_ your name?"

"Clara. My name is _Clara_," she said, massaging her temples. She could feel a headache building.

"It's Clara," he said, turning to Ernie with a proud smile. "See? I _do_ know her name!"

—Real Life Sucks—

Neville followed Harry into the elevator. Hermione positioned herself next to the row of buttons. Luna was examining the laminated piece of paper stuck to the wall.

"His name's not on here," she remarked absently.

"What? It has to be. The spell led us here." Harry frowned.

"Well, I can't see it."

"Here, let me look." Harry scanned the list and grinned. "Level 7, Hermione." She pressed the button marked '7' and with a jolt, the elevator started moving.

"But I checked that one," Luna protested. "Where's Ron's name?"

"Right here," he tapped the paper. "'Level 7: Mr Roonil Wazlib.'"

They all started laughing. "I remember that," Hermione said. "Did he get another Self-Correcting Quill?

"Apparently," Neville choked out.

With a _ding_, the elevator doors slid open and Hermione led the way out. They were still laughing a little as she knocked on the door, but they stopped as it swung open.

Four wands were immediately drawn as they silently moved through the apartment, searching for signs of a struggle. The war was technically over, but you never knew…

The silence was broken by a quiet snort from the bedroom. Hermione crept over and opened the door a crack. She rolled her eyes and signalled to the others, who joined her.

Ron lay on his stomach, mouth wide open, fast asleep. Harry was about to say something, but Hermione put her finger to her lips, smiling. She winked and raised her wand to her throat.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Ron sat bolt upright, flailing. There was a half-second where he was lunging out of bed, but then he thudded to the floor, still mostly-asleep and tangled in his sheets. "HOW DARE YOU MISS THAT CLASS?!" Hermione's voice filled the apartment, magically amplified. "I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED!"

She paused for breath, and jumped as Neville's voice sounded, just as loud as hers had been.

"YOU ARE NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT IS ENTIRELY _YOUR FAULT_!"

Harry nudged Neville; _my turn now_. "IF YOU PUT ANOTHER _TOE_ OUT OF LINE, YOU'LL BE BABYSITTING MY CHILDREN _ALL HOLIDAYS_!"

"And congratulations on moving out of home," Luna said sweetly at her normal volume. "Your parents will be so proud."

The four dissolved into laughter as Ron lay there, quivering. They watched as he fumbled to pull the blankets off his head. He peered at them blearily. "'Arry? 'Mione? I had the most awful dream."

—Real Life Sucks—

**Drop us a line and let us know what you think!**


	7. The Teachers Have Abandoned Us!

**Time has passed. Just thought we ought to warn you. Like, two weeks or something.**

**Also, the chance of you guys getting chapters as regularly as you're used to is diminishing. The sister whose laptop I use is doing NaNoWriMo, and has retreated into a dark corner with her laptop and hisses at anyone who comes near. Yes, Danicakate, I'm talking about you. **

Chapter 7.

Ernie peered at the shop, then at the piece of paper in his hand. Daphne's writing was _terrible_. He shrugged and opened the door. A bell chimed, and a few seconds later a wizened House Elf appeared at the front counter.

"Good morning, sir," the House Elf squeaked, adjusting a badge that said 'Dusty.' "Does sir have a shopping list, or would he like to find his ingredients himself?"

"Uh… well, I would very much appreciate it if you could help me find these things so I can find them myself later if I need to," Ernie confessed, showing Dusty the list.

"Very good sir," the Elf announced with a grin. "If sir would follow me please?"

Ernie watched, slightly bemused, as the Elf handed him a shopping basket and pointed out all the items on his list.

The shop bell dinged as someone else walked in.

"Excuse me, sir," Dusty said, before hurrying back to the front counter. Ernie shrugged, and went back to his list.

"Hello Ernie," said a familiar voice. He turned to see Susan Bones following Dusty into the main shop area.

"Hey Susan," he smiled. "How's life?"

"Fine," she shrugged. Three weeks into the project, most people already knew their friends' dossiers. "Not really looking forward to having to cook my own meals though. I'll probably give myself food poisoning." Ernie laughed. "How about you? Wouldn't cooking be more Daphne's speed?"

"Well, she wasn't paying very much attention to the teachers in class, so I'm doing the cooking for now," he confessed. "I don't mind it, I really liked the classes. But I'm very seriously considering getting a few cookbooks. The one we were given is going to get old fast."

Dusty cleared his throat. "Does sir still require assistance finding his groceries?"

Ernie jumped. He'd all but forgotten about the old House Elf waiting for him to finish his conversation. "Sorry, yes please. Um… where will I find potatoes?"

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione growled under her breath as she glared at Ron. He was quite happily making himself at home. In _her_ house. It was bad enough having Ginny living with her. At least Ginny, after a very pointed talk, had coughed up money for food and electricity. But Ron… it was the fourth time in a fortnight he had invited himself to dinner.

Ron grinned at her, oblivious to the many ways she was killing him inside her head. "Thanks for this, Hermione. It was really nice of you to invite me to dinner again." _I didn't. _

She put down the knife, which she had been chopping vegetables with. "Ron, there's something we need to talk about." He perked up a little. "I've talked to Harry. Every night, you're either here or at his house. This is why McGonagall made us take two weeks of cooking lessons!" Ron blinked.

"But… I'm really not very good at cooking," he said, in a tone that suggested this explained it all.

"That does _not_ mean you can skive off Harry and I! We're on very tight budgets at the moment."

"I understand that! I was with you when you were balancing them!" Ron protested.

"You were boasting how you were just fine because you're a _novelist_ and you don't need to worry about that stuff!" Hermione growled. "If you can't cook, buy the meals from the House Elves. This is the last time you turn up for dinner without my _express_ invitation. I won't even open the door for you."

"But… but… the House Elf food is so expensive!" Ron whined.

"Yes. You'll just have to budget for that. We spent a week on budgeting and finances in class."

"You know I was terrible at that!" Ron said helplessly. "I don't remember half the stuff she said!"

"Then I hope you took really good notes."

—Real Life Sucks—

Draco stirred the pot suspiciously. This cooking stuff was a lot like Potions, really, but unlike Potions he didn't know what colour the finished product was meant to be.

"Hannah!" he yelled over his shoulder. He heard her walking into the kitchen.

"Honestly, Draco, it's fine. Yes, it's meant to be that colour. No, it's not quite done yet. It's okay, I understand why you haven't moved out yet. No, you won't give us food poisoning," Hannah rattled off as she approached him. She peered into the pot. "Actually, I think it is done. Good job."

Harry walked into the kitchen too, sniffing appreciatively. "Smells good, Malfoy. Looks like you paid attention in cooking class."

"More than Weasley, anyway," Draco muttered. Hannah elbowed him. "Ouch! It's true. He's been over here almost every night. Honestly, he eats more than I do. You should be charging _him_ rent."

"You chose to pay rent," Harry reminded him. "And I've talked with Hermione. He's going to be feeding himself unless we invite him."

Draco smirked. "He'll be in the Hospital Wing in three days with food poisoning."

Harry grinned. "Seamus is taking bets. The longest anyone thinks he'll last is a week."

—Real Life Sucks—

Blaise hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. "Yes?" he asked, worried that Luna had somehow set the house on fire.

"Dinner's ready," she said absently, setting the table with a flick of her wand.

"What is it?" he asked nervously.

Luna shot him a shrewd look. Some days, he got the feeling she was much smarter than she let on. "Bowtruckle legs and plimpy soup," she said calmly. His mouth went dry.

"Really?" He said weakly.

"No. It's leek and onion." She set the bowls on the table. "It won't kill you." She paused. "Much."

—Real Life Sucks—

Pansy Parkinson poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat daintily down at the breakfast bar. _Potions today, then Transfiguration, and ugh- Life Skills, then-_

The cereal went flying across the counter. She stared aghast at the _Town Talk_.

"They're short, sweet and here to stay. Friday evening will mark the return of the town's children."

—Real Life Sucks—

"Well, what did you expect?" Hannah asked reasonably as Draco started choking. "We're supposed to have them, and we've already gone three weeks without them. Really, starting the childcare sessions in Life Skills should have warned you."

"A two-year-old kid," Draco moaned. "I'm going to do something wrong, and then it's going to die, and then Hermione's going to kill me for making her fail the assignment."

"At least you've only got one," Harry called from the kitchen. "Four. _Four!_ What were we thinking, Hannah?"

"I'm sure it won't be so bad. Half of them will be at Hogwarts, so we'll only have to deal with two," Hannah reasoned. "What about you, Draco? Going to go find a cute cottage for you and Annie?"

"Shopping?" Draco groaned. "Kill me now, Potter. I don't even care if you make it look like an accident. It'll be less painful this way."

—Real Life Sucks—

McGonagall watched as her class filed into the room. They were all early. News of the impending arrival of children had made an impact. She smiled to herself. It was exactly like she had told Fleur: students just needed the right motivation.

"Good morning class. As you are no doubt aware, your children will be arriving on Friday. As such, we have a guest teacher today. She has many children of her own, and so is perfectly qualified to teach you how to look after them."

There was a small noise akin to a whimper from Ginny, who had grown several shades paler.

"Good morning everyone," Molly Weasley smiled. "I'm only going to be here for this lesson, but afterwards you're perfectly welcome to owl me any questions you may have. All my children have grown up, so I don't really have anything else to do. Isn't that right, Ronnikins? By the way, what's this I hear about you cutting class?"

There was a thud as Ron fainted.

—Real Life Sucks—

**So that's it from us. Next time on Real Life Sucks: The impending doom! I mean… *cough cough* who **_**said**_** that? I **_**meant**_** to say those sweet cherubs… but then again, 'I must not tell lies.'**


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